


Turkey and Moonshine

by yerawizardlani



Series: Holiday Series [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yerawizardlani/pseuds/yerawizardlani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has the gang over for Thanksgiving. In which Clarke forgets dessert, Jasper is never allowed in any kitchen ever again, and Bellamy knows Clarke too well. Lots of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turkey and Moonshine

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is a little one-shot I wrote of Bellarke at Thanksgiving time in honor of the holidays. I'm thinking of doing a little Holiday series for them so we'll see how that goes. Enjoy!

The doorbell rang and Clarke glanced up with a smile.

"Coming!" she called out, wiping her hands on the apron she'd donned earlier. Her hands were covered with flour. She rushed out of the kitchen just as the person on the other side started knocking.

"Hold on!" Clarke laughed, pulling open the door before the person on the other side had an aneurism.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Monty and Jasper shouted together, holding out their arms with a flourish. Clarke's smile stretched wider and she pulled them in with a laugh. Suddenly she was enclosed in a group hug. Her arms were trapped between the two boys and she struggled to get loose.

"Alright you two," she laughed, "I get it. You're happy to see me." They backed off with wide, shit-eating grins.

"Of course we're happy to see you," Jasper said cheerfully, walking over to the dining table Clarke had set up and placing a bottle of wine down. Clarke raised an eyebrow.

"You brought wine?" she asked, smirking. Monty scoffed.

"Please, Clarke," he waved, "Must you doubt us? That's not all we brought." He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of clear liquid.

"What's that?" Clarke asked, wary. Monty waggled his eyebrows mischievously.

"New recipe," he announced proudly, "Thought we'd try it out tonight, if the hostess doesn't protest." Clarke rolled her eyes.

"The hostess thinks that one of these days your moonshine is going to kill us all," Clarke teased. Jasper clutched a hand to his heart.

"But what a way to go," he sighed. Clarke shoved him.

"I have to go back to the kitchen," she told them, "But make yourself at home. And let everyone else in while you're at it."

"Do you need any help?" Jasper asked. Clarke shook her head.

"Oh no," she said, "You, Jasper Jordan, are not allowed in my kitchen ever again," she shot him a glare. "Monty can help if he likes." Monty laughed at his boyfriend's injured expression before hopping off the couch and following Clarke into the kitchen where she was finishing the biscuits.

"What do you need me to do?" Monty asked, rubbing his hands together and taking in the chaos that was Clarke's kitchen. Clarke nodded over to where she had set aside her cranberries and oranges.

"Can you start on the cranberry sauce?" she asked. Monty bowed.

"As the princess commands," he smiled before ducking out of the way as Clarke tossed some flour in his direction. They joked around as they cooked and a warm glow started in Clarke's stomach. She hadn't laughed like this in forever. Another knock sounded at the door.

"Who else is coming this year?" Monty asked.

"Well, Monroe and Miller are both out of town visiting family this year," Clark explained, "But Raven and Octavia are both bringing their boyfriends, and Bellamy is supposed to come if he can find someone to cover his shift." Monty shook his head.

"I can't believe they're making him work on Thankgiving," Monty grumbled. Clarke shrugged.

"I guess even the drunks of New York deserve their cranberry vodkas," she joked. Monty rolled his eyes. They listened as voices in the living room approached, and soon enough, Raven poked her head in.

"Too busy to come say hi?" she teased. Clarke shook her head, wiping flour off on her apron once more.

"Never too busy for you," she assured her friend, who looked very different from her customary grease-monkey attire. She pulled Raven into a quick hug and smiled happily at her friend.

"It's good to see you," she told Raven. The other woman smiled.

"Yeah, you too." Raven jerked her head toward the living room.  
"Come meet Wick," she ordered. Clarke raised her eyebrows.

"Wick?" she laughed, "his name is Wick?" Raven glared playfully.

"Don't poke fun, Clarke," she ordered. Clarke raised her hand in mock surrender, smiling widely at her friend's defensiveness.

"Okay, let's go meet the new boy-toy," Clarke teased, following Raven out of the kitchen and into the living room where Jasper was busy talking to a tall man with light brown hair and a playful glint in his eyes. Raven ran up to them and slipped a hand through the tall man's own hand, threading their fingers together and tugging him over to Clarke with a smile.

"Clarke, this is Wick," Raven introduced them happily, "Wick, this is my best friend, Clarke." Clarke held out a hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Wick," she said brightly, paying close attention to Raven's happy smile as Wick grasped her hand and gave it a warm shake.

"The pleasure's all mine," he greeted her with a smile, "Raven's told me all about the infamous Clarke Griffin." He grinned conspiratorially at Raven and Clarke raised an eyebrow at her friend.

"All good things, I hope?" she teased. Wick smiled.

"The best," he promised. Clarke nodded. She opened her mouth to excuse herself to check on the turkey, but at that moment, the doorbell rang once more. Clarke held up a hand to let the others know that she had it, and went over to the door. She opened it to a blur of black hair and tan skin. Clarke stumbled back as Octavia wrapped her in a hug, embracing her friend only after she realized that she wasn't being attacked by some sort of wild animal.

"Clarke!" Octavia squealed happily, "It's so good to see you." Clarke laughed.

"O, you saw me last week," she teased the girl. Octavia backed away and pouted.

"Yeah, but my brother was being an asshole then, and you left early, remember? That doesn't count." Clarke shrugged and turned to the man behind Octavia.

"Hi Lincoln," she greeted him, her voice friendly. He nodded at her.

"Hey Clarke," he said, his expression only slightly uncomfortable. Clarke had only met Lincoln a handful of times, and Clarke had gathered from previous interactions that he was fairly reclusive. How he handled being with Octavia, who was the opposite of reclusive, was anyone's guess, but Clarke couldn't deny that the two had real feelings for each other. She'd seen the way they looked at each other when they thought no one was looking.

"Dinner's still a couple hours off," Clarke told them, "But you guys are welcome to join everyone else and put on the parade while you wait."

"I'll help you in the kitchen," Octavia offered, "Lincoln, why don't you go ahead and join the others in the living room?" Lincoln looked reluctant, but after a second he nodded, kissing Octavia tenderly on the cheek. Octavia blushed slightly, and Clarke studied her friend carefully. Octavia rarely ever blushed, the product of growing up with an older brother like Bellamy.

They reentered the kitchen and Monty smiled at Octavia.

"Hey O!" he called, "How are things?" Octavia grinned and pecked Monty on the cheek affectionately.

"Great Monty," she chirped, "How've you been?" Monty shrugged.

"Jasper's almost given up on cooking for us, so I'm no longer in danger of being poisoned," he joked.

"I HEARD THAT!" Jasper yelled from the other room.

"I MEANT YOU TO!" Monty yelled back, grinning. Octavia laughed. Clarke pulled the biscuits out of the oven and checked the turkey. It was almost done. Octavia looked around at all of the food taking over every surface of the kitchen. Clarke had covered most of it with tin foil to trap the heat. She'd gone all out this year with stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, homemade cranberry sauce, biscuits, steamed carrots, and her father's homemade mac and cheese. All of the food sat ready for dinner.

"Where are the pies?" Octavia asked. Clarke froze halfway through placing biscuits in the basket. Pies. Dessert.

"Shit," she said. Monty and Octavia groaned.

"Again?" Monty complained loudly. Clarke buried her head in her hands. How could she have forgot dessert again?

"Ugh," Clarke groaned, "I'm so sorry. Maybe someone can make a quick run to the store to grab some pies?"

"Clarke, get real," Octavia said, "It's Thanksgiving. Any store that's open is probably sold out of pies by now." Clarke winced.

"I can't believe I did this again," she muttered to herself.

"Hey you guys, how's dinner go—Jasper froze mid-sentence, taking in the scene before him. He sighed mournfully.

"Clarke forgot dessert again, didn't she?" he asked. Monty and Octavia nodded. Jasper took a step forward and Clarke's head snapped up.

"Jasper Jordan I know you are not about to walk into this kitchen," the blonde growled menacingly. Jasper's eyes widened and he took a step back.

"I wasn't going to touch anything," he mumbled. Clarke narrowed her eyes.

"You are not allowed in here," she told him, "The last time you were in here I ended up having to get a new oven." Jasper frowned.

"It was one time," he argued. Clarke shook her head.

"It was twice," she reminded him, "The time before that I needed a new microwave. You're not allowed in here. Out." Clarke pointed toward the living room, and Jasper turned and ran, deciding not to press his luck. Just as he disappeared, the doorbell rang once more. Clarke froze. Her heart entered her throat.

"Bellamy," she whispered, before running for the door. She beat the others there, and frantically straightened her hair before reaching for the door.

"Yes, there's nothing going on between you and my brother," Octavia teased. Clarke shot the woman a glare before pulling open the door to reveal Octavia's older brother, and the last member of their party.

He stood bundled up in his worn leather jacket and a scarf Octavia knitted for him last Christmas during her knitting phase. His brown curls fell into his eyes, partially concealed by a woolen hat. Clarke took a moment to drink him in. He smiled down at her.

"Hey, Princess," he greeted. Clarke opened her mouth to scold him for the nickname, but stopped when she noticed what was in his hands.

"You brought pies," she breathed in surprise. Bellamy frowned, looking down at the pies in his hand before shrugging.

"Well, yeah," he said, "You always forget dessert, so I figured I'd save us all by bringing in some pies from over at Charlotte's," he explained, referring to the diner down the street from his apartment. Clarke didn't say anything. Instead she threw her arms around his shoulders in gratitude. He took a step back in surprise, but quickly wrapped his free arm around her waist, tugging her in closer.

"Is this your way of saying thank you, Princess?" he murmured in her ear, his voice smiling, "Because I think I like it."

"Shut up," she told him, pulling back and giving him a peck on the cheek before relieving him of the pies. She turned back to the kitchen to place the pies somewhere safe.

"I thought you couldn't make it today?" Octavia greeted her brother.

"Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, O," he laughed. "I had Murphy take over my shift for me."' Clarke exited the kitchen just as someone turned on the television to tune into the parade. They all gathered in the living room, taking whatever seats they could find. Bellamy glared as Octavia decided to conserve space by sitting in Lincoln's lap, and Clarke distracted him by pulling him onto the couch beside her. He wrapped an arm around her as they settled down, and Clarke leaned against his shoulder, watching with rapt attention as the floats came on the screen. The parade had always been Clarke's favorite part of Thanksgiving. One day she would actually go see it in person, but for now she was content to watch it with Bellamy and the others.

The parade ended and Clarke checked on the turkey once more. Deciding it was ready, she called to the others for some help bringing the rest of the dinner to the table. Suddenly everyone except Jasper was in her kitchen, grabbing something to bring into the living room. Clarke smiled knowingly at Jasper as she carried out the mashed potatoes. He shifted nervously. Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Go on," she motioned towards the kitchen. It wasn't as if there was anything left cooking. Jasper smiled happily and followed Lincoln into the kitchen to grab more food. Clarke was setting the mashed potatoes down when she heard a crash coming from the kitchen. Closing her eyes, she tried counting to ten. It didn't work.

"JASPER, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THIS TIME?" she yelled. Jasper came rushing out of the kitchen, his eyes wide and frantic. He was dripping in red liquid that made Clarke's heart skip a beat before she realized it was just red wine.

"Um…clean up on isle one?" Jasper squeaked. Clarke let out something between a groan and a laugh.

"You're hopeless," she told her friend. Jasper shrugged sheepishly.

"Jasper, why don't you go clean up in the bathroom," Bellamy suggested, "We'll go clean up the mess in the kitchen." Jasper nodded and turned toward the bathroom. Clarke started moving toward the kitchen, but Bellamy's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" he demanded, smiling. Clarke frowned.

"Someone needs to clean up in the kitchen," she explained. Bellamy nodded.

"You're right," he agreed, "But not you." Clarke shook her head.

"It's my kitchen, Bellamy," she told him, "I can clean it." Bellamy shook his head.

"How early did you get up this morning to cook everything?" he asked. Clarke looked down.

"4 o'clock," she mumbled. Bellamy's eyebrows shot up.

"We can handle this one without you," he told her, "Sit down and relax a little." Clarke studied Bellamy carefully before deciding that it was better not to argue. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she agreed, sitting down at the table. Bellamy grinned before heading off to take care of Jasper's mess.

"Hey Clarke!" Jasper called from the bathroom, "Do you have any guy clothes hanging around the apartment?" Clarke's laughter was only slightly bitter.

"I think Finn might have left a couple of shirts in my closet!" she called back to him. "Help yourself!" God riddance, as far as she was concerned. Jasper didn't call back, and Clarke sat at the table, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen. She could hear Bellamy ordering everyone around per usual. Growing up, he had always been the one to take charge of the group, and she had always been the one to argue. Well…her and Octavia. Clarke smiled nostalgically. A lot had changed over the years. It had started off with just her, Bellamy and Octavia, and then Jasper had joined them in middle school. Monty had come in during college, and Raven was the newest member. She and Clarke had found out that they were both dating the same boy, Finn, about six months ago, and they had bonded over the experience. Now they were all living in New York, avoiding the parents that they still had, and taking care of each other the way families do.

Eventually, everyone exited the kitchen and Jasper came out wearing one of Finn's old band shirts that Clarke used to love. Clarke and Raven both avoided the subject of the shirt as Bellamy carved into the turkey and they all dug in. They joked and laughed, and at some point Monty and Jasper started a food fight that ended in Bellamy getting a face full of mashed potatoes and Clarke falling out of her chair in laughter. After dinner, Clarke brought out Bellamy's pies and the ice cream she always kept in her freezer. Then they broke into Jasper and Monty's moonshine, a tradition that carried over from before they were all old enough to legally drink, and listened to some of Clarke's Christmas records. They were all a little past tipsy when Bellamy asked Clarke to dance to Nat King Cole singing his Christmas Song. The others were busy playing some kind of drinking game that Clarke had begged out of. Bellamy pulled her into his arms and smiled down at her.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Princess," he murmured as they swayed to the music. Clarke smiled up at him. She was close enough to count his freckles, something she used to do a lot as a kid.

"Happy Thanksgiving Bell," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder and humming contentedly. His arms were warm around her, and her thoughts were sleepy from all of the turkey and moonshine. Her family was gathered around, laughing and smiling, and even Wick and Lincoln looked as if they belonged. Clarke closed her eyes and snuggled closer to Bellamy. He chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

"I think it might be time for the princess to go to bed," he teased. Clarke mumbled sleepily, burying her face in his chest to block out the noise. Suddenly her feet were out from underneath her as Bellamy carried her out of the living room and towards her bed.

"Bellamy," she whined, "I have to clean up." She felt the rumble of his laugh as he cradled her in his arms.

"The guys already took care of that," he told her, "It was the least we could do after the delicious dinner you cooked us." Clarke shook her head stubbornly.

"I can't go to bed until the guests leave," she insisted, "It's rude."

"I'll call cabs for everyone," he promised, "Besides, I do recall you promising to go Black Friday shopping with O tomorrow morning. You're gonna need your sleep for that one, Princess." Clarke groaned. He chuckled as he laid her gently on the bed and tucked the covers around her. She snuggled deeper into the pillow, giving in.

"Goodnight Bell," she mumbled. She felt his lips graze her cheek, and if she had been more awake, she would've taken a moment to better appreciate his proximity and the feel of his lips on her cheek, but instead she simply smiled and closed her eyes.

"Goodnight Clarke," he whispered, and Clarke drifted off into blackness.


End file.
